The Iceland Conspiracy.

Yes, I'm finally home. Back in Blightie. Returned to the Land of Eng. And to be honest, I kind of miss America.

Don't get me wrong, I'm damn happy to be back. I just miss the friends I made out in Happygunland. I also miss the girls who want to know me just because I'm English. I also miss not having to worry about a job, sleeping in and having any kind of idea what time it is when I wake up.

Jet lag has struck with vengeance after my long sojourn from flying and what I believe is 11a.m. is in fact 4p.m. Yes, that's the time difference and should be expected but if I go to sleep at 1a.m. my body clock shouldn't conspire to keep me asleep for well over twelve hours. Unless it hates me.

My flights back weren't plagued by misfortune, as I had feared they might. No inhumanly gross co-passengers and no delays. Just lots of security checks. Lots and lots and lots of them. Mainly in Iceland, believe it or not; apparently the recent rise in terrorism has the Icelandic authorities incredibly concerned. On the face of it, there's nothing in Iceland worth terrorizing - maybe cows and grass, but there are easier places to find those things.

No, instead I have come to the conclusion that there must be some great treasure or artifact of power hidden in the Icelandic wilds. The cross Jesus was crucified on maybe? Or the Holy Grail...A quantum computer laboratory? Or even a doomsday device the likes of which only Marvel Comics has come close to imagining?

Or there's just an unbalanced amount of paranoia in Iceland - never before have they needed it, and suddenly now they've received centuries worth of concentrated, industrial grade paranoia all at once. Hence the four security checks I went through, manned by stony-faced cops, some armed. All within the same terminal.

Off the plane - checkpoint. Upstairs - checkpoint. A second, in-terminal, passport control - checkpoint. To get to the separated area where my gate was - checkpoint. And again before I got on my second plane. I don't know many people who can change identity at will that fast. Perhaps they had a shapeshifting immigrant through recently or something. Who knows.

So now my summer plan is to unearth the possible-secret of Iceland. Depending on what I find, I'll share it with the world. If it's a lifetime's supply of peanut butter...don't get your hopes up.